Confessions Of A Menopausal Nymphomaniac

I am the poster girl for the menopause, despite the fact that there is absolutely no good news about the menopause. Its path is straight to the grave and women like me can hope for nothing more than thinning hair and skin, loss of bone density, weight gain, night sweats, smelling strangely even to ourselves and that ever wonderful “vaginal atrophy”. But, after four years of sexless fidelity, I find myself a post-menopausal singleton in the throes of nymphomania. I want sex more than ever and that fact shreds everything I know about this sad post-fertile state. Tell me my vagina is a desert and I’ll tell you it’s feeling like a ruddy oasis.

In discussions about this surge with colleagues, I am encouraged to download Tinder, Bumble and Happn. I’d never gone digital for sex because I had never needed to.

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